The Eagle and the Wolf
by Sivan IXXX
Summary: An instance in which Aveline is a runaway slave and Connor is kind enough to take her in. One-shot AU.


**A/N: Hey guys, this is a one-shot about an AU Connor and Aveline. I needed to release this before I warm up to Coincidence, Non? chapter 10. It's about 1/4 done at this point, so just maybe two or three days' wait at this point. If I get it done today, I'll jump out the window. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ubisoft or any of its characters.**

**Also: This one-shot is so non-canon, so please don't flame me for inconsistencies.**

* * *

**The Eagle and the Wolf **

She had had enough of her "master's" beatings.

If she picked up a book, he slapped it out of her hands and whipped her.

If she talked back to him, he kicked her.

If she made jests behind his back and one of the other slaves informed him of such, she had to sleep outside in the dirt. She didn't like the other women she was forced to board with, anyway. They hated her as much as they did Monsieur Grandpré.

Because she was different. Because she received more privileges than the darker slaves. Because she was her master's daughter.

If he found out what his stepson was doing to her every day—forcing her to clean up every intentional mess he made, destroying her dresses with paint, or groping her lasciviously and whispering what he'd do to her if she informed the master of the house of his actions—he'd have worn the boy's skin as a hide. Louis de Grandpré was the Devil in disguise. But her stepmother, Madeleine, loved him dearly and called him an angel every chance she received. After Louis, the doctor told her she couldn't chance another pregnancy.

So the harassment spanned six years, up until her nineteenth birthday in the spring of 1780.

It was almost time to turn in for the day when Aveline stood up straight in the tall sugar cane fields. Wiping her forehead, she gathered what sugar stalks she could into her bag and started to head back to the storage house. One of the other female slaves, Anjou, was close by, carrying a similar load with her head cast to the ground.

They had never been friends, although Aveline had tried to be friendly on several occasions. Anjou didn't show any signs of dislike or hatred like the others, but she didn't seek out her fellow slave when they had a small break from work. She too was a child of a master from another plantation and a slave named Rebecca, that had been sold years ago. And Louis made it a point to harass her too, though his gestures were more assertive towards her than Aveline. On several occasions, she caught him staring at the smooth curves of Anjou's backside as she stooped to pick up a fallen letter or a misplaced ornament within the house. And sometimes (when she was feeling up to it), Aveline caught the auburn-haired fellow cornering Anjou in some abandoned recess of the mansion, putting his lips on the bare skin of her neck or groping her in ways only a man and his wife would do. The girl, being just sixteen years old and terrified, simply let him do as he pleased, hoping he'd go away eventually.

Aveline had her suspicions as to what was really going on, but she had to be sure. Louis had abandoned his lecherous ways with her and gave most of his attention to Anjou, who had grown more introverted with each passing day, and sought to be alone.

However, after the day had been replaced with the cover of darkness, Aveline sought to retire into the long house and rest her aching bones, but she was halted in her steps by a low whistle. She turned quickly, surveying the darkness around her. With all the swampland, she could barely make out tree from human, or bush from animal.

"Qui est-ce (Who is it)?" she asked.

"You should know by now, cherie, that I'm the only one who knows what you respond to," his voice echoed. He stepped out from the shadows, a sinister smirk on his pink lips.

"Leave me alone, Louis," she hissed.

He feigned hurt as he stepped closer. "I don't think that's very nice, Ava." She hated that pet name. "I'm the master's stepson, after all. Maybe I should teach you some respect."

"If you lay one hand on me, I'll—"

"You'll what? Tell on me? Cherie, no one would believe a two-pence house slave just because she has a little bit of the master in her blood." She hesitated and he grabbed her by her wrists. "Now, come on to the storage house with me and we'll settle this—_quietly_," he emphasized.

"No!" she protested, trying to break free. He held both wrists in one hand and covered her mouth with the other as he dragged her towards the large farm house.

He kicked open the door and pinned her down in the nearest bale of hay. His venomous green eyes glazed over with wanton desire as he flashed his pearly white smile. "I'm gonna enjoy this. Maybe it'll shut you up, finally." Aveline squirmed beneath him as he unbuttoned the front of her dress. "Just relax, Ava." She looked around for something, anything, to make him stop and noticed something shiny on the dirt floor close to her. It was a knife used to cut the ropes that bound the hay. Relief washed over her, but she needed to get free to get to it.

His hands glided over her chest and kneaded her skin roughly. "No! Stop!" she wailed, bucking beneath him wildly.

He started to grow irritated and slapped her across the face. "Tais toi (Be quiet)!" Being blinded by pure lust, Louis failed to notice that one of her hands had been freed, and she grabbed the knife. Immediately, she drove it into his chest, feeling his blood sprinkle her chest and face. "Ahhh!" he groaned, letting her other hand go as he grabbed at the knife protruding from his chest. The wound began to stain his blue dress shirt almost immediately, but Aveline didn't waste any time admiring her work; she scrambled to her feet and sprinted out of the barn, ignoring his booming voice calling after her.

She didn't know how far she ran, but she knew she cleared the perimeter fence with ease and continued to head in whichever direction was clearest until she got to the swamps. Careful not to step on the giant snapping turtles or rouse the slumbering alligators in the murky waters, she braved the thick marshlands and emerged on the other side just before sunrise, her dress torn and snagged in some areas.

After observing her surroundings for a moment, she collapsed next to a tree and slept hard until late into the afternoon. Under the cover of night, she was able to steal a few ears of corn, a few apples from the trees or any other fruits that grew in the branches above her. She had torn the skirt of her long dress and turned it into a knapsack of sorts to carry her food, and she continued traveling, following the brightest star in the night sky.

Hours bled into days, days into weeks, and it had been almost a month since she ran away when the terrain began to change and the air gained a ghostly chill. The trees were stripped of their colorful garments and the ground was covered in thick, white ice. Even the sky was heavy and gray, and Aveline found herself trying to shield her bare skin from the cold.

Houses were far and few in between, and her rations had depleted three days ago; her stomach protested as she continued walking, unaware of where she was. She was definitely not in Louisiana anymore.

The snow began to fall in thin blankets from the sky around midday, and Aveline found herself growing sleepy. It was eerily quiet, nothing like the lively animal chatter that occurred in the bayous of New Orleans. She enjoyed the peace and decided to sit beneath a grand tree with a wide trunk. It was surprisingly warm, and so she rested her back against it, readying herself for a short nap when she heard growling not too far from where she sat.

Panicked and suddenly very aware, she got to her feet and looked for the wild animal, panting heavily. The most ferocious animal she had ever seen was an alligator mother trying to protect its pups, but this sounded different.

Finally, she spotted the yellow-brown eyes, the masses of gray and brown fur and bared teeth, and grew very fearful of her life. The petrified teen backed away slowly as they stepped forward, enclosing her in a half circle. Aveline turned to run and managed to distance herself for several yards, until she felt paws digging into her shoulder blades as she was pushed face down into the snow.

She heard her clothes ripping, felt the harsh sting of the cold on her back and turned over to try and fight the vicious beasts off of her. One bit her hand, causing her to yelp in pain and another bit down on her forearm. It was only a matter of time before they sunk their teeth into her neck and ended her life then and there.

Suddenly, they ceased in their attack and withdrew from her mangled body as something bigger approached, its two feet crunching softly and slowly in the snow. Hungry, exhausted and half-conscious, Aveline assumed it was some other creature coming to rip her to pieces and accepted her fate, her half-lidded eyes staring up at the gray underbellies of the clouds.

She felt her body being possessed by warm hands as it removed her from the icy ground and she weakly protested. He said something in his language, and whatever he told her had a calming effect on her. His body was warm, as was his voice, as if he intended not to harm her, and she silently thanked him for such a reprieve as she faded out of consciousness.

Maybe he had some food, as well.

* * *

"Where did you say you found her?" the Clan Mother asked.

"On the border of our lands, close to William Johnson's settlement. If he had found her, I do not know what he would have done. She is not one of them, but not one of us, either," he replied.

"As Warrior Chief, and also because you were the one to find her, you must decide what you will do with her. I'm sure you'll come to the right decision, Ratonhnhaké:ton."

He nodded slightly and departed from her hut, returning to his own to check on the girl. She was quite young, but not unfamiliar with the commonalities of womanhood, either. Her clothing was quite dirty and torn, as if she had been braving the weather and harsh terrain for some time. On his occasional visit to the towns, he saw some of her kind dressed far more extravagantly and looked well-fed; she, however, looked like she was cared for at a basic level, if that.

When he returned to his home, she was still unconscious, but breathing lightly, as if she would awaken at any moment. He studied her rounded features, her bronze skin, and noticed that she had a barely visible scar across her lips. He leaned in closer for a better look; it was very old, but she was too young for it to have happened when she was at an age to attempt to defend herself. Just where had she come from?

The young woman stirred and he sat erect once again, removing his wolf skin so as not to scare her and waited for her to open her eyes. They fluttered open slowly and focused on his face. He had never seen brown eyes that danced with a shade of green that reminded him of the evergreen trees.

"Do you understand English?" he asked.

"Oui," she replied. "I mean, yes." He noted her accent quietly. She sat up, her raven colored curls cascading over her chest. "Were you the one that saved me from the wolves?"

His eyes never strayed from her face. "Yes. They are my pack. If they had intended to kill you, they would have done so immediately. Their instinct told them to immobilize you."

She didn't know whether to be upset that he let them attack her or be grateful they were trained. "Thank you."

"Where are you from?"

Aveline decided her next words carefully. "A place far away from here. It does not snow where I live."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Why would you ask that?"

He extended his arm and she flinched, unaware of what he was going to do until he touched the scars on her arms. "You have been mistreated many times."

She cursed him for being so observant and contemplated her excuse. "I fell as I was traveling through the forest."

"These scars are years old and very different in size and shape. Has someone deliberately been hurting you?" They stared at one another for an extended moment and she felt her eyes growing misty and wide.

Aveline turned away. "S'il vous plait (Please), I don't want to talk about it."

"Very well. I will take you to the river to bathe." It sounded more like a command than a request, and she felt the need to listen by the sharpness in his voice. He did not need to help her; he could've taken her to the nearest slave owner, sold her for pots and pans or money, and returned to his village with gifts. She didn't need his sympathy.

"Why?" she asked as he got to his feet. She followed, trying not to see that he could easily overpower her if he wanted. He studied her carefully, his golden brown eyes trailing over her form. There was something familiar about his face; what, she didn't know, but it would come to her eventually.

"If you are to eat, then you must be clean." The brown man pointedly stared at her torn dirty dress and she indignantly sighed.

"Fine." She followed him out of the long house and away from the small village, wondering what he would give her to wear, preferably not that animal skin he wore on his head.

Finally, she could hear the river rushing by at a steady pace and she hesitated. It was the end of winter; the water was freezing. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"The water is cold."

"How do you know? Have you tested it?"

"It's winter, no doubt it's freezing."

"There is a warm water resource that flows into the river from the mountains; the water is fine," he corrected her, impatience in his tone. "Once you're done, follow this trail back to the village and I will have something for you to wear." With that, he disappeared, leaving her alone to decide what she would do.

After a few minutes, she decided to test his word, and shed her clothing before stepping into the water. He was right; it was warm. She immersed herself once and scrubbed at her arms and legs before returning to the shore, putting the dress back on. He hadn't given her anything to wrap around her body.

When she returned to his home, there was a cream-colored tunic and dark brown pants laid on her pallet; he was nowhere to be found. Aveline removed her dress and slipped on the pants; they fit snugly, but they would do for the time being. She moved on to the top, pulling it over her head, unaware of the presence behind her until she finished.

She gasped, feeling her heart thud loudly in her chest. The Native remained unfazed by her reaction. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked quietly. The blush was already finding its way into her cheeks.

There was a foreign shimmer in his eyes, a spark that she had never seen. Not from her father, her fellow slaves or even her own mother. It caused her heart to skip a few beats until he spoke. "Who has been mistreating you?"

"No one," she was quick to reply. "I was badly burned a few years ago. Think nothing of it."

Though he could see the truth written all over her face, the story in the wrinkles of her forehead, the tension in her lips, the sorrow in her eyes, he did not question her further.

She was a rose adorned by many thorns, with its bud closed tight, and he had no intention of forcing it open, for fear it may fall apart and die before his eyes.

* * *

Many weeks passed after the Native warrior brought the mysterious woman into his home, and little by little, her true personality began to take form.

They argued constantly, bickered over small things and ate in tense silence or away from one another to keep a physical confrontation from happening. He had never been so puzzled, amused, annoyed and angry with someone in his entire life—and his reasons for complaint came from a girl!

He voiced his concerns to the Clan Mother, and she merely chuckled after he recounted all of the times she had splashed water on him, put spices in his food, or bawled him out of his own long house because of what he had said.

"I do not find this situation amusing. I regret letting her stay with me," he confessed, clenching his fists.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, keep calm. Not all relationships flow like the river at first. She has scars from her past, and no doubt she doesn't want anyone to know about them, even you. Like an injured wolf, she will defend herself, even if your intentions are right."

"I have given her three months; she has not changed. She is distrustful of me, she does not heed my instructions, and she constantly finds ways to aggravate me."

"If your suspicions of her being a slave are correct, then you must understand that she has come from under a heavy, painful yoke. And if my own eyes do not fail me, then I'd say that she argues with you to keep your attention."

He was utterly confused. "Are you saying that is how she expresses her true feelings towards me?"

"Not all women are honest and open about their feelings, especially one as young and inexperienced as her. Give her time."

And he gave her more time; two more months of arguments, frustration and anxiety, to be exact. Eventually he gave up trying to communicate with the woman and let her do as she wanted during that time. She seemed to be relieved that he had finally left her alone, but he would often catch her peering from around a corner, or slide her eyes in his direction when she thought he wasn't looking.

She confused him greatly; when he gave her attention, she acted as if she abhorred him, yet when he didn't, she looked and waited for him to come around. Eventually, they began to talk on friendly terms for just minutes out of a day about simple, every day things, such as his nickname in the colonies, his duties around the village or a member of his people that she wanted to know more about. But he knew better than to bring up a scar he'd noticed when she rolled up her sleeves or the scar on her rosebud lips.

One night, after dinner and just before bed, she finally spoke in a kind tone to him. "Aveline."

He nearly believed he was hearing things. "What?"

She turned to him, her hazel eyes wide and attentive. "Aveline is my name."

"Does it mean anything?" he asked, turning his full attention to her.

"I...don't know," she fessed quietly. "My mother named me. My father...didn't know I existed until I was five." Silence fell between them, and she looked up at him. "What is your name?"

"Ratonhnhaké:ton."

She tried to pronounce it, "Raton...hnhaké:...ton?"

He smirked. "Close enough." She returned the gesture and cleared her throat, casting her eyes to the ground. There was nothing left to say. Aveline turned her back to him and started to remove her tunic, but he didn't turn away as he always did when she changed clothes. "Where did those scars come from?" he asked. It had been months since he last asked about her past.

She slowly lowered her top and kept silent, hoping he'd let it go as he had done months ago. "I was burned. It was an accident."

"Aveline, that was no accident." He neared her and put his hands on her shoulders; they were warm and heavy, and she immediately relaxed under his grasp. But she couldn't give in to him. "What happened?"

"Why must you know?" she asked tersely.

"So that I may know from whom I must protect you."

Immediately, she broke down and began to sob quietly, her whole body wracking with anguish. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked.

She turned to him, her bronze cheeks streaked with tears. "I've been nothing but trouble to you since you brought me here. I thought I had to be suspicious of any man who took an interest in me, and all you want to do is help me." Before he could say anything, she threw herself against his bare chest and held him tightly around the waist. "I'm sorry."

"There is no need to be sorry," he assured her, placing his hands flat on her back. "You have endured much for someone so young. You show a remarkable spirit."

The young woman pulled away and looked up into his eyes. "I am glad to have met you, Ratonhnhaké:ton." She leaned in slowly and pressed her lips to his, then pulled away. Something possessed her to kiss him again, and so she did, expecting him to push her away at any moment, but he didn't. Instead, he returned the gesture with a passion he didn't know that he possessed and raked his hand through her thick, dark hair, as he had wanted to do for so long.

"I will never hurt you," he whispered before their affections grew too great for words.

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**Alright end of one-shot. I needed to get this out of the way before I release chapter 10 of Coincidence, Non? As I said before, a lot has been going on lately, I apologize for not updating on time.**

**With this done, I'll be going back to updating my stories that aren't yet complete. Speaking of which, I will be creating longer chapters for my ResiEvil stories so there will be less chapters with more substance. It'll take me longer to update them, but its better this way for me.**

**I know this one-shot is blah, but I wanted to throw it out there before I forgot about it. Thanks for reading.**


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